Sherlocked
by mamika
Summary: What happens when John can't get hold of Sherlock and no one knows where he has went while on case. and what happens when Sherlock finally shows up. johnlock.


A little fic that was inspired By Vicki's daydreaming. I hope I did not ruin the dream for you n.n''

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John had got just one simple text. And ever since he had been worried. Scared even.

Because the text was from Sherlock and it only said JOHN. Nothing else. And it disturbed him more than he was willing to admit.

So he had naturally tried to text back but had gotten no answer. Then he had tried calling, but the line was dead.

He had left the flat and headed towards Yard whilst already texting to Lestrade if he knew where Sherlock was.

-Do you know where Sherlock is and what he is doing? JW-

he never put his phone back into his pocket while he waited the reply

-Asked him to help with a burglary case. We have no leads because any witness there could be they tend to beat near death. And it keeps escalating.

John liked his lips and puckered them. Why had Sherlock not asked him to come along? This sounded precisely a case where a pair of extra eyes and a gun would be useful. This sounded dangerous and Sherlock should know what he thought about the detective going into danger zone alone.

He rushed to the Yard and into Lestrade's office.

"Hi John, you look like you are in a hurry"

he gave Lestrade a dirty look which caused the DI to lift an eyebrow "Hey, what's the matter?" Lestrade asked.

John took a calming breath, standing his ground before speaking

"Sherlock. When have you heard of him last?"

Lestrade blinked.

"Since I showed him the case file. Then he took off and haven't heard of him since"

He balled his hands into a fists.

"So you send him alone after hardened criminals who have no issues with casualties?" He said, trying to hold his temper.

"I did ask him why you weren't with him, but he just waved it off and said you had had it rough at work" Lestrade defended himself, surprised of John's open worry and annoyance. Usually the doctor was very patient and jolly, tolerating most of Sherlock's quirks and dealing with Anderson and Donovan.

John blinked and bit his lip. Sherlock had actually thought of him? It was true that lately he hadn't been able to sleep well despite Sherlock playing the violin in the downstairs. It was closing a year when he had been wounded in action and nightmares were returning. He hoped it was only a temporal nuisance. But at least his leg had not started acting out again so he had nothing to complain. But to think that Sherlock had noticed and had allowed him to rest some extra.

He cursed himself, of course Sherlock noticed, what didn't the bloody genius notice. He sighed

"I got a text from him 20 minutes ago. It just says John"

"Okay" Lestrade said thoughtfully. "And now you believe he is in trouble"

John waved his hands in exasperation

"What else could explain it? He doesn't even usually use my name when texting. And now I can't get a hold of him and no one has seen him"

"I'm sure he is fine. You know Sherlock, he tends to go on his own"

John gritted his teeth. And Lestrade noticed that the ex-army doctor was getting annoyed. His stance was shifting more towards attack stance than attention.

"No. he does not go on his own. Not when it's dangerous. We have an agreement."

"John" Lestrade tried to calm the doctor. "I don't think this is dangerous. It's just burglary and..."

John lifted a hand, index finger raised

"Are you.." John stopped, breathing through his nose before continuing, "Are you seriously saying that there is no danger when he is chasing people who are known to beat others to death? Tell me, how is the other victims doing?"

Lestrade opened his mouth, staring at John and then he lowered his eyes.

"One of them is in coma. He may not wake up"

John sifted on his feet wanting to run out to find Sherlock already.

"And what do you think they would do to Sherlock if they catch him? Following them, trying to stop them? You know Sherlock, he is a bloody idiot. If he is caught he will claim to be a consulting detective and deduce the hell out of them, pissing them off more. Do. You. Really. Think. There. Is. Nothing. To. Worry. About?" John said, stressing every word.

Lestrade got up from his chair and walked to the door grabbing his jacket.

"Right. Let's try to find him then"

John followed closely behind.

"Donovan, you come too"

"Where?" she asked, but for her compliment it must be said that she did grab her gear and moved to join the two men.

"To find Sherlock" Lestrade said curtly and headed to the exit

"The Freak? Why?" she asked, disdain clear in her voice. John glared her and she looked back at him with narrowed eyes. "Has something happened to him?" she continued but there was less edge in her tone and her expression softened a bit

"John thinks so" Lestrade quipped when they all climbed into a car. John went to the back seat and stared out of the window, pulling his phone from his pocket and trying to call Sherlock again. Nothing

"He is still not picking up" he said and stuffed the phone away. Lestrade sighed and Donovan turned over in her seat to look back at John

"So that's why we are running around? Because the Freak got tired of your little domestic bliss" she quipped. John's knuckles went white and slowly he turned his face to the woman, his blue eyes stormy

"For the final time, we are not a pair. And that is a good thing, since I bet the moment he starts dating you would get interested in him, since taken seems to be your type" John said coldly. Donovan blushed with anger but with a stare from Lestrade she turned to face forward again, arms crossed.

"Why did you need me to come too?" she muttered.

"Because" Lestrade said with unnervingly calm voice "I assigned you to do the background checks in order to find how the gang chooses their targets. And I really hope you have done your work and possibly have their next possible target figured out."

"Of course I have. And it was not that easy to narrow it down, there is quite a few places they could move next"

"Sherlock would have figured out the most probable one and went there" John said. After a moment of thought added "Or he would have figured out their hiding place and went straight there"

"If he did that" she said "then we have good chance finding just a bloody mass there"

Both Lestrade and Donovan froze. There was a dark force emitting from the back seat and neither dared to look at John. They glanced at each other and both wished they would never be in the receiving end of John's wrath.

Donovan tapped something into the GPS and Lestrade kept driving. No one spoke.  
John was sitting rod straight in the backseat. His hands were in fists on his knees. He had seen enough violence for a lifetime. He knew all too well how badly things could go. So he was using most of his mental capacity just to remove the image of bloody Sherlock in his mind. How the red blood would taint his pale skin, glue the bouncy locks against his scalp. How the wondrous eyes would be dull and unseeing.  
He had to keep his eyes open. The images were too vivid to deal with. He prayed to god that Sherlock would be okay. Because he couldn't deal with it if he were to see Sherlock's cold body lying on ground. Long limps limb.

He took a shuddering breath and felt Donovan's eyes on him but he ignored it. Sod Donovan for always being rude to Sherlock. Sod Lestrade for never thinking of Sherlock safety. Sod him for not being with Sherlock.

Finally the car pulled over and they got out

"Where are we?" he asked curtly.

"This is last place they hit and it should be in few blocks radius where they appear next. They always stay dauntingly close to the last place."

They look around. It was upper middle class area. Leaving Donovan and Lestrade to talk he started heading towards the nearest alley. He knew that Sherlock had London's map ingrained into his brains so he would know where the alley lead. For some reason Sherlock seemed to prefer alleys to main streets. Maybe it was so that he could slip under Mycroft's radar. How he wished that Mycroft would work a bit more to keep an eye on Sherlock. With a brief moment of humor he shook his head. If Sherlock would hear him say that there would be no end to the complaints.

Suddenly he stopped. He could only stare with wide eyes.

Sherlock walked behind a corner, hands in pockets, that damn jacket pillowing around him like always, collars up and the scarf wrapped around his neck. Not any visible marks on him

"Oh, John, what are you doing here?"

John managed only to gape and seeing that no answer was forthcoming Sherlock shifted his attention to the Yarders

"Lestrade! I got some informations for you. I found out where they reside at the moment, and if you move quickly..." Sherlock bellowed while walking towards the two and past John. But John wasn't hearing any of it. Blood was humming in his ears and without thinking he grabbed Sherlock and pulled him into a tight hug, burying his face into the familiar coat that smelled just Sherlock. He took a deep breath, fingers burrowing into the thick fabric, inhaling the warmth and scent.

Slowly Sherlock's hand wrapped around him, pulling him closer. The firm, warm body against his reassured John that Sherlock was really there, and that he was okay.

His body started shaking with relief and he tried to keep the moisture from falling his eyes. He was so glad that Sherlock was okay.

He felt long fingers brush through his hair and moving onto his shoulder, wrapping around his arm, pulling it a gently. Reluctantly he let go of Sherlock and allowed the hand to run down his arm. It squeezed his wrist and he let out a breath, finally relaxing.

Then to his surprise the hand kept moving. He had thought Sherlock was just taking his pulse to see how long he should tolerate the hug until John would have calmed down enough.

But the hand moved over his thump, he felt soft palm resting against his and then those long cool fingers sneaked between his warmer ones.

John pulled back just enough to be able to look at Sherlock's face. Sherlock was looking back at him, not looking annoyed or awkward. But serious and a bit searching. The hand that was not holding his trailed up his back and caressed his cheek. John licked his lips in effort to be able to say something, but then Sherlock smiled at him. Not a smirk, not a grin, but a real and warm smile. It made him feel so much better that all the anxiety seemed like a silly dream now. His own hand was still clutching at Sherlock back and he was not yet ready to let go

"Kiss him" they suddenly heard. Taking a step back they both turned to look at the police officers. Donovan was glaring at Lestrade who was looking extremely embarrassed.

They looked at each others again and then they burst into giggles. They were both struggling to catch their breath, John was bending down to lean on his knee in helpless laugh and Sherlock was holding a hand on his shoulder, other hand pressing against his own diaphragm.

It took some minutes before they could stand straight and look at each others without giggling again. When they were ready they walked to Lestrade and John let Sherlock explain what he had been doing and what he expected the DI to do now in order to catch the criminals.

They were heading home, Sherlock having waved them a cab. When they were sitting in the seat, legs occasionally bumping together John finally asked

"Why were you not answering? And what was the message about?"

Sherlock was quiet for a while. Then finally muttered

"I run out of battery. I was trying to tell you that it was happening but I run out of time."

the rest of the way they were silent again. There were things John wanted to say but he didn't want anyone else to hear it.

Once they were in 221B and the door was closed he turned to Sherlock.

"Have you any idea how terrified I was?"

Sherlock chose to look incomprehensive

"But you were here. There was nothing for you to be scared"

John gritted his teeth and grabbed Sherlock by his jacket's lapels.

"I was worried about you, you idiot. I thought you were dead or dying and I had no idea where you were. I thought I would just see you lying on a puddle of blood..." his voice broke and he looked down, but did not let go of Sherlock. He gathered his thoughts a moment "Never, you hear me, never go alone to find violent criminals. And for God's sake, this has better be the last time you run out of battery"

They stared at each others for a long moment. Then Sherlock slowly grinned and took a hold of his hands. Not trying to pull them off, just wrapping around them.

"Or what?" Sherlock said in a low tone, something twinkling deep in the mysterious eyes. John narrowed his eyes

"Or there will be consequences"

He felt thumps on his wrists

"And what would those be?" Sherlock asked, voice possibly low. John could practically feel it, reverberating in the air.

"You are the detective, shouldn't you be able to tell?" he growled. Sherlock leaned down, close to his ear. He felt the warm breath against his ear and neck and it made him shiver.

"Of course. But I wouldn't want to jump into conclusion before I have eliminated all the other possibilities.

He first showed Sherlock back and briefly noticed the surprise and disappointment in the beautiful eyes. Then he pulled Sherlock so close their noses were nearly touching.

"You have no others" he growled before letting one hand go, releasing it from Sherlock's hold too and quickly burying it into the dark locks and using it to keep Sherlock's head in place.

Then John brought their lips together. Relentlessly he licked, sucked and finally nibbled at the delicate lips, causing Sherlock to gasp and using the opportunity he pushed his tongue into Sherlock's mouth.

He looked at Sherlock, only to notice that the detective's eyes were closed. Pleased of his success he ravished the tasty mouth a bit longer, managing to make Sherlock stumble and John could feel the tremors that were running through the slim body.

Using his hold of Sherlock hair he pulled away and twisting a bit he got a clear line to the pale long neck. He licked along the tendons and listened to Sherlock's breathing growing heavier. Then he placed his lips close to the ear, on the pulse point in the neck and sucked.

The reaction was magnificent. There was a breathless gasp of

"John" and Sherlock wrapped his free hand around him, pulling him even closer and craning his head to give him better access to the long neck.

And with that permission, John had no hesitance to continue.

He only pulled away when Sherlock's legs nearly buckled from under him. He looked at Sherlock, who's hair was messy now, pupils dilated, lips parted and breathing heavily

"Dear John, if that's what happens every time I run out of battery it will happen every day."

"Addict, are you?"

Sherlock smiled

"Only to you now"

He smiled back and then it turned to smirk

"But you got it a bit wrong. That is what will _not_ happen if you ever worry me like that again"

Sherlock's eyes grew more focused and he again softly caressed John's cheek

"I am sorry. Next time, I will ask you to come along"

John nodded

"Good. You want tea?" he said and let go of Sherlock, walking to the kitchen

"John!" Sherlock exclaimed after him "You can't just stop now!"

He looked back from the kitchen door

"Oh, yes I can. I am still pissed at you Sherlock. You had me worried"

He was smiling when he made the tea for two. All in all, this had been definitely one of the better days.

When he was carrying the cups to the living room, Sherlock was intently looking at him. He just offered him his cup and went to sit on his chair and started reading a newspaper.

It did not take long before Sherlock was sitting on the arm rest

"I want more" Sherlock said.

"Then go make some yourself"

there was a silence. He looked up. The gleam in Sherlock's eyes was something he had never seen before. It was more excited than with a good case, more fond than when addressing Mrs. Hudson and... before John had more time to think, Sherlock had leaned down and pressed their lips together again, one long fingered hand cupping his cheek.

There was no winning with Sherlock. He always had his way. But this time John had absolutely nothing against it. Not minding where his teacup would end up, he let go of it and pushed the paper away, pulling Sherlock down from his perch. He could hardly believe his luck, to have Sherlock like this. With new vigor he attacked Sherlock's mouth and the taller man moaned into his mouth.

He was not gay. But he was Sherlocked. And this was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

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It's so nice to be able to write again. I hope you readers liked it :D


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